Here is some of the on-the-spot doc on “the incident” from the Tumblr of jamesa.
http://misfitwashere.tumblr.com/post/137548068492/monday-again-i-usually-post-ships-in-distress
And if you want more backstory on the snow cat depicted in yesterday’s post, check out this facebook page.
From Quartz: It’s possible that there is a “mirror universe” where time moves backwards, say scientists. Check out the story here.
Whiteriver (yeah, one word) was the largest community — perhaps three or four thousand people — on the White Mountain Apache Reservation and was its seat of government. There the Tribal Council gave my crew use of a vacant house for our base of operations. Here are some pictures taken early on before we were fully staffed. Depicted are Tom and Dave, two memorable characters indeed*; three or four other staff members would have been out visiting other sites and interviewing officials.
*Tom was probably the most meticulous, detail-aware person I met in my Gov’t career. His aspiration was to be the Los Angeles office’s head of administrative services and reign over the office’s pool of female clerical support workers. He was also a semi-professional classical pianist and played a reinforcing role in my acquisition of a piano (initiated by Lynne of the Tucson Troubadours). When Washington visitors came out to the Rez later on for a few days, Tom used my piano to treat them to a live concert, much to their astonishment. Dave was an engineer who brought his wife and baby to live in a cabin in the woods for several months, and was an avid skiier and outdoorsman. He could always be relied upon to provide an utterly quaint, unique perspective to any issue with which we needed to grapple. And he would douse his snow-and-ice-covered windshield with hot water every winter morning to clear it instantly before driving to Whiteriver. Not shown in these pics (but I am bound to find some sooner or later) would be other staffers such as my Chinese-American mathematician who was a fanatical CSNY fan; the guitar-playing accountant from the University of Oregon; the doomsayer auditor who was buying gold as quickly as he could and watched the Watergate hearings with me; the Washington, D.C. psychologist whose hobby was sitting in on court proceedings; the ex-Special Forces guy who had had a mission in Cambodia that he couldn’t talk about but was also a pool shark; and some others. A great, diverse and valuable team (although the LA office declined to send any female personnel).
Walking downtown to the post office, noting the odd vehicle and other sight along the way, including dogs and the ex-Bobolink store. Then over to the former workplace to see how Mark is surviving the Big-C, and checking out the new ISP building’s construction and the new snow cat. Then home again to try to intercept Kim & Charlie on the their trek through campus.
After a few weeks of beginning my assignment, I settled into a cabin in the woods on the edge of the small town of Pinetop. Equipped with a sleeping loft, fireplace, once-a-week maid service, kitchen (and a piano later on), the total costs were less than my Government allowance for motel lodging and per diem, so it became a win-win for all. Some more documentation …
Earlier, in describing my year or so with the White Mountain Apaches, I mentioned my friend Chris (mountain man/ski bum/engineer/fellow Porsche enthusiast/Popeye impersonator). He and his girlfriend lived in a schoolbus near the Reservation and near my cabin. Some pics I stumbled upon this weekend:
About six or eight weeks ago, I began unearthing negatives from my stint with the White Mountain Apaches (see the Introduction here). This weekend I came upon a few more images of Reservation scenes. These include photos of housing, ranging from the traditional wickiup (“wigwam” in white-speak — note that the example here has been fitted with a modern door) to government housing tracts (ranging from mid-20th-century to then-recent developments) to scattered houses and cabins and shelters of all sorts. Some dwellings from the 19th century, and perhaps older, were constructed with short rock walls extending down into the earth to create a semi-underground shelter with a roof of whatever material was at hand; I should be able to eventually find some photos of these ( I even met and visited a tribal member who returned to the reservation after gaining a law degree and refurbished one such shelter for his own private home) . Also, we can see evidence of AIM (American Indian Movement; remember Dennis Banks and Russell Means?) activism. The graffiti lettering “CBQ” refers to the poverty-stricken reservation community of Cibecue, incidentally.
Previous:
Intro
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Today we connect with Ivi in Seattle for a birthday video hangout via Google! Converted the screen grabs to black & white to mitigate the color mis-balances. And, of course, we know that Ivi is always in motion, verbally and visually …
Charlie meets a dog named Harlan. And today’s snow mostly melts.
One of the most incredible intros ever, the first minute of this thing:
And the organ fade at about 4:00 …
Sorry, can’t help it. Now back to our regular programming.